You

I think about you when it rains.

I think of our bed. About that old

Studio apartment, its old and tattered drapes.

Smell of tobacco and air filled with smoke and empty thoughts and words that filled the deep silence

Of a quiet, rainy day.

I think about you when it rains.

I think about your eyes, gazing nowhere while talking about

Nothing in particular.

I think about your hands, the

Scent of your hair, its brown and endless curls.

I think about you when it rains. I think about you when it snows.

I think about you when the Sun shines bright.